Kimi Ga Matteiru Kara
by Shimegami
Summary: I did it. I posted this story here. I'm going to get flamed to hell and back, but! Anyhow, this story contains angst, yaoi, and some adult themes. My theoretical musings, mainly. Enjoy!


Kimi ga Matteiru Kara…

By: Shimegami

Warnings: Angst, yaoi, and…..kinky shotacon rooftop sex. There, I said it.

Disclaimer. Not mine. Don't sue.

AN: Well, after loosing six pages of my AU Kaitou/Shinichi story, I was rather pissed.

Pissed enough to go off and write kinky rooftop sex, featuring my pairing of choice.

Oh, and be warned of background mentions of my DC Crack Pairing of Choice, Hakuba/Ran.

Totally inspired by a doujinshi I have. Only my fic has more psycho-analyzing, less ReluctantUke!Conan, and they do it on a random rooftop instead of on the desk in the Kudo house library.

Fun fact: when I tried to write doujinshi up above, the auto-SpellCorrect changes it to "cousinship". Which makes me want to slash Becky Tailweaver's Relative Truth fandom. Badly. Incest, yo.

Kimi ga Matteiru Kara…

"Good evening, Detective."

He really hated that voice. It was like hearing his own voice played back at him from a recorder. It reminded him of all sorts of things he couldn't have anymore.

Like respect. Admiration. Ran's heart.

The fact that the thief had used it before he had found out his secret identity meant that it was the thief's real voice, not just mockery or an attempt to unsettle.

It was vaguely annoying when someone ran around with your face and voice causing trouble, especially when there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't demand that Kaitou Kid have plastic surgery, after all.

Conan turned around and glared at the white-clad thief.

"You're the last person I want to see right now," He growled at the other, trying to send telepathically send the command "Go Away", complete with capital letters.

Apparently he was crap at telepathy, because the thief grinned his shadowed grin and bounced forward slightly.

"On the contrary," Kid purred. "I'm probably the only person you can stand seeing right now."

Conan growled and turned back, resuming his lonely watch over the city. He watched the lights, trying to ignore the fact that the thief's words rang true.

The shimmering lights of thousands of lit windows, signs, lights, and other electronic marvels glittered in the atmosphere, as if trying to make up for the night sky they outshone.

A million lights. A million faces. A million crimes he would not, _could not_ solve, no matter how hard he tried. It felt like fighting against the tide, or gravity, sometimes. A lonesome force against an army of millions.

It made him feel the age he currently seemed, and he hated that. No matter how much he actually wanted to crawl into a bed and never come out, to yell at their expectant faces _to stop coming to him; he didn't want to be in control, to have all the answers-_

But something always forced him on. Like a magnetic force determined to chain him to a destiny he didn't want, no matter how he avoided, no matter how he tried ignoring the corpses that always seemed to fall at _his_ feet-

"Nice night, eh?"

The voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he stared blankly at the thief, who in a swirl of white had come to lean over the railing, watching the city below, much like he had been. He couldn't see the other's face clearly through the monocle and night shadow cast by the top hat, but Kid seemed soft today, no harsh teasing tone to his voice today, his usual superior smirk fading to a reminiscent smile. When it was clear the thief wasn't go to say anything else, Conan sighed and turned back to the night view.

They stayed like that for a while, the soft wind ruffling his hair and swirling the thief's cape; causing the clover charm to sway and twist and dance. He was caught by it's movement for a moment, the small triangle catching flashes of light every now and then, the four-leafed symbol standing stark against the dark blue background.

"Why are you here, really?" His voice didn't startle him, but he felt it did break the spell that had seemed to settle between them. The thief sighed slightly, then turned his head slightly with a grin.

"What, I can't come to cheer up my favorite detective when he's feeling down?" The flippant tone was there, but it was soft and subdued, and the emotions behind it seemed real. The thief actually seemed concerned about him, and not just faking to get the detective's trust.

Like the surprise that had flashed across his face when he had pulled that falling trick on the top of that other building-

He sighed. Somehow, in a twisted fashion, the thief did seem to care about the shrunken detective. It had been becoming more obvious recently, in brief flashes.

Like flowers appearing in unexpected places, or little gifts every now and then, cheap little mind puzzles you picked up at the UFO machines in the arcade. He solved them within seconds, but they brought a smile to his face, something which had not happened in a long time.

The thief had given him a book once. The newest by one of his favorite authors. He'd heard about it and had fretted distractedly about getting it (He only got so much allowance, after all) until he simply decided to wait until it came out in paperback.

Until he had opened the door one morning to find a neatly wrapped parcel, addressed to him. It was the book, autographed by the author himself, even. And Kid too, of course. The thief had made it obviously plain that it was he who had sent the book. There was the Kid caricature on the same page as the autograph, and little comments throughout the book, sometimes snidely dissing a criminal's abilities, or slighting some police's reasoning. There were some, though, that were insightful little comments on the story, on the night sky, on whatever the hell Kid was thinking about at that moment. On one full page margin had been even a long diatribe about women's breasts, including how to create the most realistic feeling ones, and what materials to use. It had made him exasperated at the time, but now every time he reached that page he smiled fondly.

He read that book every night now. It could possibly be called his most precious possession now, so dog-eared and worn it had become in the few weeks he had owned it.

He never told Ran who the book was from.

There was just so much of the Kid's personality in that book. Every comment and snippet was a fragment of the thief's personality, a glimpse into perhaps the most mysterious figure he knew outside of the Black Organization. On a base level he realized that he could go get it examined for fingerprints, hoping the Kid had been careless for once, that his real identity might be revealed.

He never did it, because of that exact thing.

Perhaps it was the trust the thief had given him by sending such a precious thing, or perhaps he was just going crazy. It might even be both, he never was quite sure about anything these days, unless it was a case.

He could point a finger, whether his own or Mouri's or some other random person being used as a tool, and single out a criminal and condemn them, but he couldn't point out what was wrong with himself, where _he_ had gone wrong, couldn't nail down the strange feelings and thoughts that fluttered through him recently.

Like the feeling that he didn't quite love Ran as much anymore.

And the thought that wondered what the thief would do should Conan haul himself up to his level (or drag him down, it was hard to decide) and give him a really good, thorough kiss.

The night breeze was suddenly a lot cooler on his face, and he knew he was blushing. He looked determinedly forward, trying to not catch the other's attention. Kid was genuinely curious about things, like a cat, and if he caught Conan blushing, he wouldn't stop until he found out why, and wouldn't _that_ be a lovely conversation?

Though he did want to see the thief's reaction about the fact that Conan wanted to kiss him, just to see the impenetrable white armor crack, just a little.

"Detective?"

The thief's voice brought him out of his reverie for the second time that night, and it was irritating him. He glared at the white-clad phantom.

"What? And I do have a name, you know. _Kudo Shinichi_ or _Edogawa Conan_, I don't care which. Just use one already." He huffed, and turned to face a different part of the city. Different area, same lights. Same people, same crimes. It never ended.

"Well then…" Kid's voice was drawl as he languidly detached himself from the railing and came to kneel behind the boy. "_Shinichi-kun_."

He stiffened slightly at the affectionate name, but he wasn't really angry.

He just hadn't heard that phrasing in such a long time…

"Now, Shinichi-kun, you mind telling Uncle Kid what's wrong?" The voice was laughing, cheerful, but not mocking, The offer was genuine, if a little strange. He turned to stare at the thief exasperatedly.

"And why should I tell _you_?" He sniped at the criminal, trying to ignore the fact that he really wanted to. To tell someone all of his secrets, someone who wouldn't judge him and turn their backs at him and stare at him with those accusing tear-filled blue-gray eyes he used to love that said _why would you lie to me like that-_

"Because," The thief stated succinctly. "if you don't start trusting someone, my dear detective, you're going to go crazy. And then my heists would be lacking in their most fun participant. And because, no matter what, I'll tell you the truth. Within limits, of course."

He really wanted to. He wanted to turn around and fling himself into white-clad arms, just to be able to. To be able to cry like the little kid he appeared and to able to feel like the protected one once in his life. It would solve a great deal of his problems, the thief would try his tears, deposit him back home, and then they would carry on with their lives like always.

He desperately wanted that.

Instead, he raised his head, and decided to make polite conversation. He would still talk about his problems, but he wouldn't break down on the thief, wouldn't try to have someone heals his wounds.

"You know, Ran's dating someone you know." His voice was calm, even, but he didn't know how long it would hold.

"Ah, I know." The thief's voice was, as always, inscrutable. But he seemed a little more blank before, a little more melancholy.

"Some guy named Hakuba Saguru. She's always liked blondes, you know, she was just to obsessed with me to actually look for what she really likes. I'm glad, she'll be a lot happier with him. He detective-obsessed too, so she'll feel right at home, but he won't forget her the way I did." It hurt, to admit that there was someone who could take better care of Ran than him. That his childhood friend was slowly only becoming a pleasant acquaintance, off on dates and outings with a stylish half-foreigner almost every day, out the door in a swirl of nice clothes and perfume and long, lush dark brown hair that smelled sweeter than any scent she placed on her body.

He still loved her, as a sister. But the part of him that had morphed that into romantic attraction that forced him to look at her and think _look how blue her large eyes, that perfect shade and how they fill with tears so perfectly_, or _look at her body, perfectly formed and so graceful, even when punching a hole through the wall we just repaired last week._

Or, his personal favorite, the _look at her pretty face, how sweet and open it is, at how lovely it looks when she's wearing that betrayed look on it._

Such a part was long gone when he looked past the pretty and the blue and chest and saw the hurt face, the pain-filled eyes, the dainty fist rushing towards his face-

Ran Mouri in a temper was a force of nature. Ran Mouri hurt and betrayed was like the eye of the storm, calm until the temper kicked in.

When Ran Mouri was told by her best friend, the person she desperately loved and had been waiting for for -_god, has it really been three years now?-_that she had been lied to for all that time, she skipped the calm. She skipped the hurt and betrayal. She skipped the force of nature.

She went straight to the force of god. He'd nearly thought he'd have to be hospitalized.

But she'd pulled her punches, of course. No matter her emotional state, she could never bring herself to truly hurt someone she cared about, no matter how much they hurt her.

He knew it was over for them when she had walked away without crying.

He hadn't even been able to explain why he lied. Hell, he hadn't even mentioned his Conan identity to her. He hadn't gotten past "Ran, I'm sorry, but I lied. I really haven't left. I've been here all along-" before she had launched herself at him.

Maybe she already knew. Maybe that's why she treated Conan like a real little kid now, completely ignoring any hints he dropped, purposeful or no.

Kudo Shinichi was dead to her. If he played Edogawa Conan with her still, she didn't care. As long as her didn't try to be Shinichi for her, she didn't care. That's who he was to her now. Edogawa Conan. A name taken hastily from book spines was now his permanent identity to her now.

And he couldn't blame her.

He was just thankful she didn't kick him out, because if that happened, he'd probably end up being taken to Hawaii or a multitude of other places with his parents as they globe-hopped, powerless and just a tagalong.

No, he had to stay here for now. No matter how much he hurt Ran, no matter how much their love withered and died, there were stills things he had to do.

Justice and truth did not care about love. They were entirely about fixing wrongs and exposing lies.

No matter how much it hurts. No matter many lives were ruined.

"You're back in fantasy-land again, Shinichi-kun." The sing-song voice was really getting to him. He was tired of being yanked from his thoughts by it.

But he had been lost in thought for a while, ignoring the thief. And for someone who apparently thrived on attention, this was a unforgivable crime.

He turned to look at the thief once more. He was still kneeling behind Conan, face still shadowed and unreadable. The wind had picked up a little, blowing and teasing the billowing expanse of white fabric that was one of the thief's trademarks. His presence was mysterious and entrancing, enhanced by moonlight and the strange feeling Conan was currently feeling, a magician to the core.

But no matter how good of a magician he was, Kid couldn't spirit away troublesome thoughts and memories. Rather, he was causing them in Conan. But he'd be damned if he let the thief get the best of him in this too. It was time to square his shoulders and face his consequences. _And damn the torpedoes_, the Americans would say.

"Kiss me." He demanded.

For a long second, the thief was silent. Conan held his ground, trying to not give into the slight feeling of fear, or the larger feelings that were swiftly growing, still unnamable but he was sure one was recognizable as anxiousness.

Then a delicate gloved hand shot out and snatched his wrist and pulled him closer. He squeaked lightly, he'd expected the thief to at least make some banter over this-

Then silken lips closed over his, and his brain promptly shut off.

He could still remember his rare kisses with Ran, especially when she had first kissed him Conan. They had been underwater, but Ran had been very warm, pliant and giving despite her larger size. He half-expected her to turn into a cloud and melt away, so soft she had been.

Kid was nothing like Ran. From the first, it was obvious he was the one in control, as he pulled Conan closer and kissed with an almost aggressive force that made Conan weak in the knees. His lips were cooler, too, but rather than being any sort of turn-off, it just filled him with a desire to kiss more, to try to bring his own warmth to them.

He had never wanted to kiss Ran more than once in a row, he always felt like she would break under his lips. Sometimes she did, because he sometimes tasted the salty water of tears.

Kid, he didn't want to stop kissing, and it was quite obviously a mutual feeling, as Kid entangled one hand in his hair and angled his hand, tongue flicking out to taste his lips. Startled, Conan reflexively opened his mouth a little in an instinctive response, and Kid took the opening he was given. Flicking his tongue into the detective's mouth, he was rewarded with a startled moan. Something about that sound, that tone in Conan's voice, struck something inside the thief, and growled slightly, sliding his tongue back in to taste the other's mouth, to toy with the other's tongue, in an attempt to force more delicious from the boy.

Conan was rapidly loosing any control he might have had. He had felt attraction before to Ran, but it had a been an embarrassed sort of attraction, awkward over his feelings and what Ran's body inspired his body to do.

The feeling that had been niggling at him since he'd seen the thief was rapidly expanding with no awkwardness and no hesitation. He wasn't quite sure what the name of the feeling was, he was never good with matches the descriptions to what he was actually feeling, but it was quickly overtaking him, forcing rational thought to take a back seat to the physical feelings his body was currently experiencing.

They broke apart, but only briefly for air. A few gasps to re-oxygenize, then the thief's mouth was on his again.

Now one gloved hand was slipping from his face to his eck, fiddling with the disguised voice emulator, undoing it and tossing it away, only to continue tugging at his clothes, slipping inside his jacket to slide nimble fingers along his sides.

Some part of him was aware of where this was going, clamoring that this was wrong, that Kid was a criminal, that he was goddamn seven-year-old for crying out loud, but that was a very small part. The rest of him very much wanted to continue, and if Kid didn't seem to mind he was currently enrolled in grade school, then who was he to argue.

He realized that somewhere along the lines his own hands had fisted in the thief's coat front, and his own jacket had been unbuttoned was now precariously hanging off his arms.ﾁﾁThe feeling that was being rapidly identified as lust was still building, still demanding more. Apparently Kid's body was just as impatient as he was, because soon the thief had him pinned against his back on the rough asphalt rooftop, jacket gone and shirt barely hanging on, and pants already succumbing to his advances.

Somewhere along the line they'd stopped kissing, perhaps when Kid had started trailing his neck with his tongue, or when he had thrown back his head to give Kid better access. But now, they were looking each other directly in the face, neither speaking. Kid's hat was gone, knocked off by small eager hands. the moon illuminating his features to show what Conan knew already. A slighter more rugged Shinichi with messier hair stared back at him, the monocle flashing and obscuring one of the brilliant blue eyes. For a moment, they halted.

Then Kid smirked, leaning in for a kiss at the same time his hand trailed down Conan's stomach and further south. Conan arched into the touch moaning against the thief's mouth when his hand reached it's destination.

It was wrong, he knew, somewhere inside him. But everything had been going wrong recently, from Ran to his feelings to even his bloody sexuality. This was just icing on the cake. Who cared if it was wrong? It was okay to be wrong once in a while, to not have all the answers, to be human and just _feel._

And that's what he did that night, on some nameless rooftop in the moonlight, arching into and against another, alternating bare skin and white silk. It was perhaps the most peaceful Shinichi had ever felt with himself, even when hot passion and cool lips brought him over the edge and all was white.

And he was not surprised to wake up in the bed of his old house, surrounded by white roses. Kid was such a romantic.

And he was also not surprised to find a single white card with a pill on it on top of his nightstand. The pill was one of the temporary antidotes, the card simply bore an address.

He flipped it over. Emblazoned on the back was a black four-leaf clover. He smiled.

Thirty minutes later, Shinichi Kudo strolled out of his house, humming off-key to himself. He paused at the gates, looking back to where he was leaving his small persona behind for the day, and walked away, still humming.

Perhaps today he'd find out what kind of books the thief liked to read.

Owari

AN: And I turn angst and psycho-analyzing into…..SAPPY ENDING. I AM THE LEET.

My brain is currently demanding for what the hell happens later. My response: Shinichi goes to Kaitou's house, they have hot boy on boy secks, then he goes back home, turns into Conan, and then Kid and Conan have hot boy on chibi secks for the rest of their lives.

The End.

As a side note, I was stuck on Gackt music the ENTIRE DAMN TIME WRITING THIS FIC. Then, because I'm stupid and repetitive, I turned off auto-play list advance, which means it plays the same song over and over until I tell it to move on. It's cool, yo.

So, I ended up listening to Gackt's Kimi ga Matteiru Kara…for half the fic. For some reason, this song is my new god. So the fic got a title revamp near the end. Which is strange, since it would seem like you would think "Because You're Waiting…" would be more of Shinichi/Ran, and if I chose a Kid/Conan Gackt song, it should be "Vanilla", "Kimi no Tame ni Dekiru Koto…", or, in case of angst, "Birdcage". But the muses will not listen. So waiting it becomes. Vv

I like this song, yo.


End file.
